


The devil and the details

by InkkEmulsion



Series: Apex Legends [1]
Category: apex legends - Fandom
Genre: Amputation, Angst, DON’T READ THIS IF YOU GET DEPRESSED EASILY, Suicide Attempts, octane origins, sads, this is dark as fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 18:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18744859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkkEmulsion/pseuds/InkkEmulsion
Summary: Octavio Silva, beloved daredevil and stunt enthusiast, awoke to many things in triage after the Gauntlet record was broken with a grenade blast over the line in 12 seconds exactly for the whole run.Having legs was not one of them.





	The devil and the details

Octavio Silva awoke to a number of things. Machines beeping, connected to his chest. A concerned gaggle of voices around him and the sterile white lights of the room he was currently in. Just beyond were the surgical bay doors, where he’d likely just been. The smell of sanitizer and iodine was strong, particularly where he was. A frowning face comes into his dazed and tired view, a surgeon dressed in full scrubs and mask, head covered. The ﬁrst question he was asked when regaining consciousness;

“Do you want some more morphine?”

He in his dazed state recognised the big word at least, unsure what was going on still as the effects of the general anaesthesia swirled around his head and felt like the entire gurney was dragging him down back to sleep. “...Morphine? I... Yeah.” Octavio get, out, speech slightly slurred and he can see an amber syringe for a few  
seconds, plunger ready before it vanishes from his view still gazing up at the ceiling  
blankly. A slow unfurling warmth enters his systems not long after, making it even harder to think or speak. Whatever this feeling was? lt was good. He felt like he’d rested fully and could rest for days more which hadn’t happened in literal years.

Not since he was still told the myth of a jolly red clad fat man that delivered gifts on some of the coldest days of the year. A doped up smile covers his face unbidden  
as he is wheeled away, still puzzling over why he was here and what exactly  
his memory was searching for.

He didn’t ﬁnd out until he had been admitted to the post surgery ward, wheeled in with care by his own nurse attendant. The ﬂash of green from a fern in the hallway triggered the memory like a catalyst.

His mind gained a note of clarity, a weak calloused hand coming up to grip at his temple with a groan.

He’d entered the Gauntlet on a nearby planet without his parents knowing. The livestream from his phone started up as always, his pre-run jitters giving him the antsy energy his fans had come to love. He’d thanked them all for all the love and  
support they showed and as always there were a few people telling him not to do  
it. Don’t jump on the grenade mid run and that it would only end badly. He’d laughed, waved them off and gotten ready- the Gauntlet awaited.

The start alarm went off and he was dashing forwards propelled by an  
alarming amount of speed he’d used from a grenade launcher right out the gate.  
Then he’d tried the same method with a frag grenade right before the ﬁnish and-

Octavio looked down at his legs, still heavy and subdued by the effects of the morphine but a horrifying sense of terror ripped through his core that day. Where his legs were, were now gone just above the knee joint. Stumps wrapped in absorbent bandages and tinged red in places, and quickly his heart rate on the monitor began to rise. The beginnings of full blown panic set in as the implications began to ﬂood  
his mind quicker than any race he’d ever ran. Nurses noticing the colour  
draining from Octavio’s face rushed over, realising that he was going into shock.

The scream that echoed out from that room was heard the other side of the hospital, causing unrest and a number of doctors to come  
running.

—- 

The psychologist assigned to Octavio sighed quietly, leaving him slumped within his wheelchair for his nurse to soon collect and take back to his temporary room.

The mental assessment was incredibly poor- Octavio was still in belief he’d be up and running again very soon. That his injuries could be shrugged off and in no time he’d be back to his normal daredevil self.

“I’m ﬁne compadre! Just give me some legs to strap on and l’ll be ready to go!” He claimed with a false smile, eyes full of a hope that would only be crushed from him soon enough. Letting him down gently was going to be difficult... While it was true, he was eligible to wear prosthetics for the lower half of his missing legs, he would likely never be running and performing stunts like what had put him in here ever again. He’d walk, but with the damaged sustained not terribly much more than a few steps with a prosthetic limb set.

Prosthetics were incredibly expensive and even as an heir to a massive company owned by his parents; the cost was something to scoff at. The bionic limbs especially so- so few people knew how to make them that the cost was driven up even higher. War had made medical advances yes, but the disabled patients were left so far behind in the dust that history and progression had nigh but forgotten about those who gave literal parts of themselves for freedom in the Frontier war. 

Octavio was no war veteran- only an idiot who’d tried to ride a grenade.

Telling him he’d never run again was something more akin to ripping a band aid off than letting Octavio down gently. Whatever disillusions he’d had about the entire recovery process were torn away in brutal fashion and the realisation that he was disabled to the point of needing others help came crashing down around him.

He’d always need someone on hand to ensure he wouldn’t get hurt. Tears had welled in his eyes, already hollow in their sockets with heavy dark rings and a choked sob built up ever since the ex-daredevil awoke from surgery wracked his suddenly weak and small looking frame. Whatever ﬁre had kept his dreams alive through all of the lack of privacy, embarrassment being helped to the bathrooms, enduring the pain only to wake up screaming for relief ﬁnally went out... And he was left a husk of the man he used to be.

He shut down entirely, demanding for the nurse to leave with a harsh break to his voice.

Octavio was placed on suicide watch that night, after he’d tried to overdose on painkillers.

—-

“No,” was the simple, clipped reply.

Octavio’s father and mother had shown up after a week and a half of their child recovering. They’d been away elsewhere, negotiating a deal with a rival company and instead of rushing to the scene, they’d ﬁnished negotiations and walked away much more proﬁtable than before. Only then did they go to see their alleged ‘heir’, with a lawyer by their side. They looked more like they had dressed for a funeral or  
court date than visiting their beloved son in hospital, all sharp angles and crisp business suits. Not a hint of warmth to be found in either one of his parents eyes.

“What do you mean no? You’ll leave me here?” Octavio starts with a painful croak, conﬁned to his bed now after another attempt on his life early yesterday afternoon. His normally skinny now almost bone like arm gestures to the stumps he how hated with a malicious passion. He doesn’t miss the soft ﬂinch from the lawyer, clearly uncomfortable in this very intimate family argument. “You really hate me so much to leave me as a- a...” He takes a moment to force the next word from his throat. “A cripple?!”

His father however is unflinching, not even within a few feet of the bedside. Instead he is a cold distance apart, glancing over to his employee who took the gesture as a sign to step forwards and present the document they had prepared beforehand. Octavio recognised this. He’d played in his father’s off-ice a few times in his youth, back when his parents still had hope for his future. Were proud over the achievements their son had until it inevitably fell apart in wake of their growing empire.

A fucking contract, silver plated pen clipped underneath on the smooth leather clipboard for his use. The snarling hatred that boiled up was barely contained, Octavio realised now why they had come. Not because he had asked for them- but because they had another plan. Another secret agenda to turn him back to the perfect doll they wanted him to be. It took a lot of willpower to listen to what they had to say ﬁrst and not throw their stupid fucking contract in their faces and call security.

“You’ll see in the documents disclosed that we have proposed a deal for you to consider. You cease your violent, unruly and death seeking ways, become a proper citizen—“

“—And you’ll pay for my new limbs.” Octavio ﬁnishes for them, lips set into a harsh disgusted sneer.

His mother frowned at the hostility, looking at her husband brieﬂy but neither one of the men seemed to back down. The tension escalating in the room is broken by a hollow laugh, the sound of paper being flipped through slowly and  
with care. “l knew l was only a tool for you,” he murmurs slowly, quietly. So soft it’s barely audible.

“...But l didn’t want to conﬁrm it. Make believe that somehow beneath all your corporate layers of bullshit you cared-“ he was interrupted abruptly by his mother, scandalised by his words and phrasing but He merely spoke over them, staring at the contract. “-That l was your son. That I was more than some... Precious heir you had just to ﬁll the generational void you’d have once you ﬁnally bit it.”

Never before had his parents seen such abhorrent hatred on Octavio’s features. An entire lifetime’s worth of loathing and vile hate came seething forth, empowered by such strong emotions that had even his father taking a step back his voice rose so loud that afterwards his voice was hoarse. 

The contract was thrown straight at his father, demanding them to leave and never come back, claiming that no matter what he’d never become the man they wanted him to be. He must of aimed true- because the elder male ﬁgure left with a nosebleed, clutching at his face in shock and simmering anger.

ln total the meeting had lasted barely 15 minutes- but the quiet that stretched out afterwards felt like a lonely eternity, even with the painkillers subduing his higher thought processes when requested.

—-

Ajay knew there was something up when after the entire Gauntlet grenade incident, her long time friend of 15 years Octavio hadn’t surfaced online. Normally after big accidents he emerged no worse for wear, his jaunty carefree attitude assuring his fans that all was well and he was going to continue doing his stunts no matter what. lt had been 2 full weeks now and while she had gone snooping she was unable to ﬁnd out anything important- until Ajay’s mother mentioned in passing how much of a shame it was that the Silva family’s heir had been effectively disowned.

People did not disown their child for no reason- especially not the leaders of major corporations. Her suspicions now ringing major alarm bells in the combat medic’s head, Ajay had searched and searched online for any hint at all where this idiot friend of hers might be, and if he really was alright. No messages, no calls. Nothing since the last time they had spoken, and that was months ago by now. His account activity showed he hadn’t logged in for weeks either- nothing at all since the Gauntlet incident.

A horrid sense of dread grips at the pit of her stomach. What had her stupid daredevil friend gotten into this time? And was he even alive?


End file.
